Garbage
by Blackwolf-20
Summary: While taking a break at his favorite spot at a dump, Sid discovers something so unexpected it forces him to reevaluate the real garbage in life.
1. Lost

**Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story**

**summary: While taking a break at his secret spot in a dump site, Sid discovers something so unexpected, it forces him to rethink some of the decisions he's made and the way he sees himself and others.**

**warning!: This is a dark fic. containing the gruesome results of a violent act, foul language and minor drug use.**

**I haven't written a lot of dark fics, especially fics with the use of profanity (it's not in my nature), but under the circumstances I felt the need to use it to emphasize the situation. I think it's hard enough getting into the mindset of Sid from who we see the point of view from. The story of Andy was meant to be used for something much longer, but due to time and a desire to place focus on Sid, I decided to make this a three-shot (though it was going to be a two-shot). The concept was inspired by a serious topic on a talk show. I wanted to address that here using two human characters from Toy Story. **

Lost

_Shit._ It wasn't something I should be thinking. It's not how I'm supposed to feel after lighting the end and taking a drag. But that's how I felt. I wasn't gonna admit that out loud. Didn't matter anyhow, cause no one was around. It's just me, surrounded by heaps and heaps of garbage. All the necessary stuff that nobody thought they needed or wanted anymore, becoming nothing but trash. I'd seen it all: old sofas with nothing but a bad color scheme and a few holes; cracked lamps, some with uncracked bulbs and nice lamp shades; colored TVs that hadn't met their expiration; limp dresses, dusty blue jeans and boots that could've been used on some homeless guy; holiday decorations, including banners and lights that could've had another shot for the year. And then there were things like a full package of chocolate muffins. There was even a whole roasted turkey. Cans of things like peas and corn, and tuba ware of casseroles. It was all mixed up with rusted pipes, springs and motors from useless cars.

Yeah, some of it was good stuff. Hell, a lot of it was, but whoever threw them out didn't think so. What did they care anyway. They had pockets full of dough, they could replace what they didn't want. But whatever the hell it was, it would end up in a dump. It was never good enough. And that's where the garbage men came in.

It's a meager job. Nobody thinks nothing of a garbage man. Nobody except me gives a crap.

I am one- and not ashamed to be one.

I think about that when I'm done for the day, and head back to a pile. I think about that now. If I should be ashamed. No. It's not a question of shame. It's a question of whether I belong.

I took another drag and repositioned myself on an old cushion I'd found. An old spring popped up and ripped into my jeans. Damn, mom'll have to fix that.

I ignore it and look back out across the land. If anybody saw me, they'd think I was crazy for sitting here in a dump, especially since I'm not working at the moment. I'm just sitting here. This is my place of refuge, whenever I really needed one-and tonight I felt I needed one. No one knew I was here. This particular dump was just outside the city, away from my normal route with the other guys on the job. It was a smelly, dirty hideaway, and it was all mine. A land filled with discarded treasures.

That's what I see. Things that weren't good enough for other people, but were just fine for me. I don't know why. It's natural. It's chaotic. I've always been chaotic. Since I was a kid blowin up toys in my backyard.

Trash can be chaotic. It was a mix of things, like me. Stuff nobody wanted, that was useless and didn't have a place anywhere.

"Shit," I said. "That's me."

That's me all over sometimes. My damn father made sure of that once. And so did my toys. I shiver at the thought of that delusion. My toys, coming to life, attacking me. They say it was a delusion. My mom, and eventually Hannah when she tired of taunting me about it. But it wasn't a _delusion_. It was real.

My plastic creations still sit in my room. For the past years when I set foot there, I waited, wondering if they'd come to life, to mess me up again. They never did.

I scan the largest heaps around me, imagining what was buried within. I could guess many of the things in there were toys. Great. And this job was supposed to relax me. It was a gamble, but since I was going to associate myself with garbage, I decided to hack that problem of toy fear. Like a magpie I go around collecting interesting and fixable stuff. Some of that stuff was toys.

Guess somewhere in my sick mind I thought it would earn safety from my living toys and that damn cowboy doll that started it. Maybe that's the problem. Maybe the day my toys, _my toys_ screwed with my mind was the day I stopped being normal. Least to everyone else. With dad not being much of a number one father, there's no one to encourage me to do better. Me and mom fight all the time. She thinks I'm doing drugs. Wouldn't she like to know. I took another drag and blew out into the evening air. I know she doesn't think much of my chosen career. I can't explain the reason for it still. Me and garbage just go together.

I can't do any better. I wasn't one of those kids that brings home A's and makes honor rolls. I ain't so smart, but I know what I like. I like what I do. And it feels good with a bag of grass on hand. I reached into my back pocket to make sure it hadn't fallen out. Yep, it's still there. I can't help feel a little disappointed. I don't like toting this kind of trash with me, but I can't let it go. I glance around like I'm making sure no one is watching, then I pulled it out. I always think of throwing it out there to get lost. It's no good. It's doing me no good. My rock music does better.

I grimace and shoved it back in my pocket.

"Dammit," I cursed. Just trash holding onto trash. I was never good enough.

I sat there a few minutes longer, taking the last drag out before the bud became useless. I flicked it aside. I'm too young to be smoking, but I'll be damned if I give that up anytime soon. I sigh and straighten my posture. It was getting late. I ought to go home. I had to get up for work again anyways.

I stood and stuffed my hands in my pockets. Just like always, I took a moment to scan my horizons. Usually I took this opportunity to go scavenger hunting. Find those treasures nobody seemed to want. I wanted to find them, but I didn't have much of a motivation tonight.

A cold breeze started up and I shivered. With nothing but a t-shirt on, I was gonna freeze my ass off. That wouldn't keep me from searching the place, but I just couldn't tonight. It was stupid, but the dump felt different tonight. Like there was somebody here lurking around in the shadows.

I shook my head and laughed it off. That's those delusions again from my screwed up mind. But was it real this time?

I didn't want to know.

I reached for the headphones around my neck as I walked away. I was seconds away from placing it on my ears, before my attention drifted. Some pale object was lying on the ground around the corner of two heaps of junk. I squinted as I tried to see what it was from where I stood. It was large, which gave me the impression that it was some kind of doll. I actually gulped. That fear of toys hadn't quite left me, especially at the sight of a doll that looked so huge. But I had to know.

I walked toward it. The cold air was getting colder.

I now stood a few feet away from it, and I was shaking like a pansy-with good reason. What I thought was a doll, wasn't a doll at all. At least that's what I kept telling myself. It was as tall as me, and if anything, it was paler up close. It was face down, and shirtless. Jeans pulled down to his knees, exposing his white briefs. But the thing that stole my attention more was the giant pool of blood it was lying in.

I hoped it was a doll, a mannequin if anything. That would have been a hell of a lot better. But it wasn't. It was some _dead_ guy. A kid really, that looked to be around my age. I didn't want to see him as dead, but he was lying so still. I glanced around, expecting to find the ones responsible for his discarded body. We were alone.

The first thing I should've done was race back to my truck and get the hell out of here. But I didn't. I couldn't move at first, but when I did, I was moving toward the body. I stretched out a shaky hand and clamped down on his shoulder. Slowly I rolled him onto his back.

It took a full minute before his face registered in my head. Right now, I was still trying to get past the shock of his face. It was beaten real bad. His right eye was almost swollen shut. His cheeks puffed up in black and blue and covered in smears of blood. The rest of his body didn't get off any better, but the nasty coloring on his chest and torso showed it received a worse treatment than his face. If that was possible. The open cuts and severe damage was the cause of the red spill. It sickened me to study the damage any longer so I turned back to his face. I frowned as I really looked at it. It wasn't so easy with all the bruising, and the fact that I was eager to get the hell out of here. Then a brand new shock took over as I realized that I recognized the guy. He went to my school. He once was my next door neighbor when he was a kid, though I never paid him much attention. I actually fell back when I saw that I knew him. His name was Andy I think. Yeah, Davis.

Several questions ran through my mind at once, except the question of how this happened to him. I'd been fortunate enough to catch a sneak preview of it once. But at the time, I didn't really care. If it had nothing to do with me, why should I bother?

_Four days ago, I'm tapping away on the desk of my English class. The teacher's babbling on about some dude. I'm watching the clock. Only a minute left. 'Come on already!' It seems like forever. Then the bell rings and I'm like the first outta my seat. It's the end of the day and I'm just happy to get out of class. I sling my pack over my back and head out the door. I'm so eager for a drag. It's safe for me to take one a few blocks away from the school around a brick wall. Where teachers won't hassle me about smoking. It's not far from the school, but it's outta sight of nosy teachers and kids._

_But I wasn't the only one who knew that._

_I leaned against a bricked up wall and pulled out my possession. I still look at it as trash, but I just can't get rid of it. Not right now, so I light up. Take a drag, the usual thing with me. Then I hear something different. I turn and see Davis a couple of yards away from me. _

_I couldn't help narrowing my eyes at him. Goody-two shoes Davis. He may not be the most popular kid, but he obviously leaves an impression of being the perfect student. I didn't hate the guy, not really. I just ignored him. But I couldn't ignore him here. He wasn't alone as he crossed the field. He had a gang of boys laughing and trailing behind him. They weren't friends of his. They were a bunch of punks who were a living hell to anyone unfortunate enough to catch their attention. Davis had caught theirs for a while. I seen them harass his ass on a number of occasions. Kiddy stuff like calling him names, knocking books from his hands, or bumping him into lockers. Once or twice, I'd seen they moved up a level when Davis was sporting a black eye. What did I care. Personally I thought he had it coming. Them bringing the golden boy down to reality. I don't know whether he ever thought he had it coming, I assumed Davis never said a word about it to anyone. Guess he thought he could handle them on his own. Well he couldn't this time. They were ganging up on him._

_He kept his eyes straight ahead, ignoring them. I shook my head and grinned. If it were me, I would've turned and started swinging my fists. That's another problem with Davis. He wasn't a fighter. Well, not much of one._

_I cursed as they got even closer. I had a feeling it was going to get worse, or maybe I just didn't feel like seeing Davis get licked today. I started to turn, but I was too late._

_One of the punks grabbed Davis' backpack and pulled him back. He did it so hard the strap broke and the pack fell to the ground. Two others took his arms then they pushed him up against a wire fence. I tensed with the force they used. The fence clanged loudly. I turned my back to the scene, determined to hide them from me; but I could still see. The punks were laughing and Davis was shouting at them as one of the guys started digging through his pack. He threw the contents on the ground. Davis pushed against the guys holding his arms back and made for the other punk. He swung the pack, hitting Davis in the cheek. He stumbled back and the other guys jumped him, knocking him to the ground. _

_Davis gave a good struggle, but it wasn't good enough. Dude had no chance. All four of them was on top of him. Their fist were swinging. Their legs were kicking. Their mouths were yelling all kinds of names and curses that I couldn't hear. That I didn't want to hear. So I didn't. I stomped out my cigarette and moved on. I didn't look back neither. Not even when I thought I heard Davis crying out for help. _

That was four days ago. I had barely caught a glimpse of him after that incident. What they'd done that day wasn't noticeable, otherwise I would have heard the gossip on what was wrong with the Davis kid. But seeing as how I heard nothing, I suppose he just covered up the lie again. Suspecting no one knew about his private punishments. But I knew. And now I was faced with the result of one of their beatings on the kid. And what's worse was that he was dumped, in my dump. Like those punks desecrated my secret spot! I scrunched up my nose in disgust. His blood was dampening my soil; my garbage. But then it occurred to me-he was garbage now. At least those guys thought so. They'd dumped him, half naked too. His American blue shirt in tatters under my feet.

They'd left him here to be permanent garbage. He'd deteriorate or whatever it was dead bodies do, and he'd be nothing but unrecognizable bones.

I stared at him-at his face. If I didn't know who the guy was, I might not have felt anything except fear and sickness. I was feeling that, but in a different way. Hell, I don't know how to explain it. He wasn't someone I liked, but he was someone I knew. That made me all the more disgusted. That I had to see a face I knew end up like this.

I didn't know what to do. Before I could really think of something, I was startled. I stepped closer to the Davis kid and stared hard.

Either my eyes were deceiving me or I had seen a shiver pass through him.

"No way," I gasped. I kneeled down next to him, and with much hesitation I placed my hand on his wrist. I didn't know much about how to check if someone's alive. It was only lucky I'd paid a little more attention to my P.E. coach whenever I learned about checking pulses. I guess I figured it would happen to me or someone I knew if I was going to go farther in smoking weed.

I didn't want to think about that now. I let my fingers slide to his wrist. I didn't want to think about the drugs I could have been taking. Why was I thinking about that now? At a time like this?

I knew why.

I lifted my eyes to look at Davis's closed and damaged ones. He could've been me. I could've ended up in my own dump. I shut my eyes and shook away the ghost image of myself. I concentrated on finding the beat that would tell me I wasn't seeing a dead guy in front of me. A beat like the rhythm of my music.

First I didn't think I found it. It's a bitch sometimes to try and find such things, especially at a time like this. I ain't no doctor. I should've called a doctor, but then he would've found my dump.

But...my dump was meaningless now. It was poisoned with blood.

I kept searching. Silently I was praying that it wasn't a trick of my delusional mind. That Davis was alive. Then there was something. It was faint, but I felt something. In my excitement, I lost contact, but I found it again.

"Shit, you're still...alive?" I asked him, my voice shaking terribly. It seemed impossible he could have survived what those punks put him through. I moved my hand away and surveyed his body again. He was paler than a sheet. I really didn't want to explore the bruises again, so I looked down at where I shouldn't be looking.

The fact that his pants were pulled down to his legs was a great concern. For him anyways. I could only imagine why they'd done that.

And I was even more sick than before.

The marks on his hips suggested their rough hands forcing them down his legs as they forced their way onto him-or into.

I gulped and turned away as my stomach did somersaults. _'Damn!'_ I couldn't start piecing together possibilities. I could've been wrong. I hoped I was wrong.

That all those sickos did was beat him up. But in today's world you never know. And if Davis did survived this, he wasn't gonna tell anybody anyhow, if what I was dreading really did happen to him. And I thought that kind of thing only happened to girls. But if it were me, I wouldn't tell a soul.

It was gettin colder now. I didn't know how long this kid had been out here, but I knew any longer wouldn't be good. He'd be good as dead soon. I stood and looked around. I could make the call, but by the time an ambulance got here, they would have to contact the morgue.

I don't know why, but I felt he had a better chance if I took him. It was like some kind of nutty punishment. Cause I didn't do nothing when he was attacked and I had to do something now.

"Dammit, why me? Huh?" I wasn't asking anyone in particular. I was just mad. Angry that this responsibility had to fall on my shoulders. Course I could've just walked away. I could say I didn't know nothing if someone asked. I didn't have to do nothin. But my eyes couldn't move away from his face. I had a sick feelin the image of his trashed body was going to haunt me. For as long as that damn cowboy doll still haunts me to this day.

"Shit," I cursed again. I sighed. I didn't see no other way around it. I couldn't just leave him now.

I looked to where my truck was parked. I looked back at the kid. I couldn't drag him over there. I'd have to move closer.

"Don't go nowhere," I couldn't help saying.

I ran. The fear fueled me. If my coach could see what motivates me enough.

When I reached the truck and hopped in the seat, I had a second thought of high-tailing it out of here. I honestly sat there for a full minute. Least it seemed that way. But then the image of my ghost body lying on the ground, covered in my own blood came back to me. Hell, if it was the other way around, Davis wouldn't hesitate to save me. I know he wouldn't. He was too much of a golden kid not to do so, even to the worst of people. I started the ignition and turned around.

Davis was right where I'd left him when I ran to him. A few more shivers passed through his limp body. How long before they stopped?

"All right man, how're we gonna do this?"

It was a risk in more ways than one. He'd been soaking in his own blood for so long. I dreaded the thought of him gettin it all over my seats. The irony smell was already filling my nose cause there was so much of it. If I didn't care so much about my seats, I wouldn't have thought about him. Moving that broken body might do a serious amount of damage. Glad I knew that much. I move him too much and his death would be my fault. It was all the more reason to call the cops. Let them move him. I wasn't gentle; not in the least. I moved back to my truck and opened the back door. Rolled up on the floor was a blanket I'd found. A nice warm wool one somebody threw out. I didn't use it before, but it was gonna come in handy now. I spread it out on the backseats as good as I could. Then, reluctantly I walked up to Davis.

"Okay, how we gonna do this?" I didn't feel the least bit confident.

I bent down behind Davis's head. Slowly and as gently as I could, I started lifting his shoulders. I stopped when I heard a groan. It wasn't me, it was him. He was more okay than I thought. Or else I was hurting him. I moved even slower. I let my hands slide down under his arms. Damn his skin was so cold, and slick with blood. I wished those punks hadn't gone as far as undressing him. I personally hated the feel of blood. With the movement I was making of his body, his pants slipped down a little. The last thing I wanted to do was tackle that issue. I went about moving him slower. Davis's head fell back against my shoulder.

"Nice," I groaned. To keep him from slipping out of my grasps, I had to interlock my fingers. Rather than drag him, I turned with him on the spot so I could load him in head first. As we moved, I tried not to imagine how ridiculous this made me look. If anyone had told me I'd one day have my arms around Davis, I'd of punched him. But clearly it wasn't like that. I needed to force away my awkwardness about it and remember that this was a rescue. And it wasn't because I cared about him. It wasn't like we were ever friends in the first place. No. If I saw something that deserved a second chance, I snatched it out of the garbage. Of course, that way of thinking only referred to my job as a garbage man, yet it wasn't exactly in my job description to save things. I decided that when I realized what treasures people threw away. And surprisingly that didn't only refer to objects and foods. For some reason, I couldn't help also saving a few toys.

Maybe it's because I sometimes expected to see that cowboy again. Well, if I didn't rescue Davis, I'd probably be seeing him again; like as a ghost or some paranormal shit.

I shook my head at it. We were close to the truck now. I knew it wasn't going to be easy to get him in there, especially since I was still uncomfortable about the whole thing.

"It'd help me out if you'd wake up," I told him in annoyance. Clearly he wasn't going to wake.

I unlocked my fingers and placed the support on his back and side as I leaned him against the seat. As carefully as possible, I slid him in and onto the blanket. It felt like it took forever until I got him inside. I took a moment to double check that he hadn't had the nerve to die on me. There was still a pulse-still faint. I pulled my hand away and stared at the scene, dumbfounded. Without thinking, I grabbed the corners of the blanket and wrapped them around him. It was done. Davis was in my truck now. There was no turning back now. I slammed the door closed then hopped in the driver's seat. I started the ignition and set the air for heat. I glanced around at him before I started.

"You better not die on me," I warned him. "After all the trouble I went through."

He didn't respond. His eyes were still sealed tight, his face frowned in pain. I turned back around and gulped. This was it. I hit the gas and made a turn around, heading out of my secret place, which wasn't a secret anymore.

I hit the road with a slight bump. I said a quiet, "Sorry," to Davis, before deciding it was pointless to be saying anything to him. He was far too out of it to hear me. Instead I concentrated on remembering the nearest hospital. We were way on the outskirts of town. Those lousy bastards making it impossible for him to reach help anywhere close. That in turn made it difficult on me. I sighed. There was no way around it unless I made that call; again I couldn't bring myself to do it. I glanced at my cell sitting on the passenger's seat. Who was I kidding. I wasn't a hero. I wasn't some golden boy like Davis. I wasn't the kind of kid that did this kind of thing. I sighed again.

"I must be out of my mind," I stated.

I heard Davis groan again. I growled, irritated, and made to reach for my cigs. It wasn't easy to do while driving, so I decided not to reach for them anymore. Instead I decided it was too quiet and depressing in here, so I reached to turn on my rock station. As my finger hovered before the knob, Davis groaned even louder. I even heard the springs in the seat like he was moving around. I pulled away from turning on the radio and glanced over at him. He was moaning and tossing a little. I wondered if the heat had roused him, or if it was too much. I cut it down a little.

"Sounds like you're more alive than when I first found you."

In response he groaned.

"Guess I don't have to worry about you dyin' on me."

He groaned a little louder and shifted on the seat. I risked taking my eyes off the road long enough to look at him through the rearview mirror. It was down too low for me to see. I went to lift it up, but not before catching Davis's head falling in my direction; and seeing his swollen eyes open half-way. I couldn't concentrate too long on him since I was driving. I was dying to pull over, but I hated risking the time. He might not be as okay as I thought.

"Davis," I growled. I wasn't sure if he needed to stay awake or not.

He groaned again and this time, he went to the effort of actually talking.

"W-w-where,...am I?" he said in a low hoarse voice. He sounded like he looked. I felt a pang of guilt as I made to answer. I wasn't sure if there was a lot of point in it. Whether he was delusional in his question, but he sounded sane to me.

"You're in my, truck. You got the crap beat out of you," I admitted. For a brief second, I saw a flash of the day he got beat up, when I turned my back on him. I gulped. If I was awkward before, I felt even more awkward at talking to him. I focused on the road, determined to ignore him. I assumed he would fall out of consciousness, but I was wrong.

"Who...are, y-you?" he managed to ask.

I gritted my teeth. I really didn't wanna be talkin to him. I especially didn't want to give him my name. I sighed. What did it matter really? He'd probably forget it.

"Ah, Sid," I admitted regretfully.

He was quiet for a minute, which made me think he had knocked himself out with the strain of trying to stay awake. I risked glancing back at him. His eyes were still half open, but they were trained on me. He seemed to actually be focused on me.

"Sid?" he asked curiously.

He said it like my name registered in his head. I swallowed hard. I couldn't see how it was possible that he was so lucid.

"Sid?" he asked again. "Sid Philips?"

"Yeah, what of it?" I challenged. I couldn't help being annoyed with him now that he was awake. It was like I felt he would hold it over my head; that I was saving him. But it wasn't like that. I just needed him outta my dump. That was the only reason. The only reason. '_Damn I need a drag,'_ I thought desperately.

"Sid,...you-"

He never got to say anymore, because the next thing he did was start coughing. It was serious coughing too, so much so that I nearly swerved the car out of my control in surprise. I risked turning completely around.

"Hey, Hey dude!"

The coughing got worse, so I pulled over in a hurry. Now wasn't the time for him to die. I got out and opened the back door. I was appalled to see blood was sputtering from his mouth. There was a nasty gurgling sound which told me he was having difficulty catching his breath on his back. I moved forward and lifted him up into a sitting position. The dark ooze dribbled down his chin. I hoped that wasn't a bad sign, all this blood.

"Come on man, not in my truck," I couldn't help begging. His brutal beating could've stained my memory, and my dump, but not my truck.

Slowly his coughing fit settled. I looked around my truck and my eyes fell to the floor. There was a half a bottle of water rolling around down there. I reached down and picked it up.

Again, I'm not claiming myself as no doctor. I wasn't sure if giving him a drink would upset him even worse. I mean as far as I could tell, he had a mouth full of blood. I cringed at the sight of it. He wouldn't be able to get any water down. The most good it could do was to wash it out. After a minute I saw that it might not be necessary. He was coughing again, blood clearing his mouth some. Nonetheless, I unscrewed the cap and tilted his head back.

"Hey, drink this," I told him. I didn't wait for a reply. I stuck the bottle in his mouth. Jeez, if I felt ridiculous before, it wasn't nothing compared to now. Supporting his head and the bottle like he was a baby. But what did it matter? No one would know, except me. Davis sputtered on the little bit I poured into him, so I immediately stopped. His body shook like crazy as he started another fit of coughs. If anything, to me he sounded worse than before. Again I started to panic. I sat the water down and with some hesitation, I patted and rubbed circles into his back. Thank God I was here alone. I didn't think I could bare the idea of someone seeing what I was doing, especially to the Davis kid. But it looked like it was helping him. His coughing slowed and turned into heaving gasps to steady his breathing. He had his eyes closed tight in pain.

I hoped I hadn't made things worse. I felt like I hadn't when his breathing slowed.

He opened his eyes and like before, they focused on me looking down at him. He blinked a few times, probably to clear his focus. I wondered if he was really seeing me or if he thought he was dreaming. Surely he would think this was a dream. No one in their right mind would think I would resort to helping someone like him.

"W-who are you?" he stuttered. He was frowning at me.

"What, you forgot already?" I sneered.

He blinked in response. He looked awake enough to understand.

"Sid, remember?"

"S-sid?" he questioned. He was still frowning. Man, those punks did a good job pounding him. Shakin' lose his brains. I was close to wishing him good luck on his next algebra test. That was another thing that annoyed me and the kids that did this to him. Davis was always so smart about everything. I heard it all the time from teachers. It was enough to make me sick. But, after seeing Davis this way, I couldn't help feeling sorry for him.

"Yeah, Phillips remember? Damn, Casey and his bunch really did a number on you."

"Casey?" he asked.

"Those punks that beat you up," I almost shouted. This was getting a little irritating. "That's why you're in my truck remember? You got the crap beat outta yah."

Davis turned his gaze away from me. I could tell he was trying to remember what happened. I just hoped he wouldn't share it.

"Yeah," he said very quietly. "I, think I do." He fell quiet after that. Even though he didn't go into the details of it, (and I'm pretty sure it was because he couldn't remember them) I wished he hadn't admitted that. I mean the way he said it, in such a pathetic voice, made he feel more sorry for him. I turned away and tried to think of something to say or do. Anything to keep the depressing mood from getting to me. I turned back to the water. I grabbed it with some hesitation. I still wasn't sure if he should be drinking any in his condition.

"Here, you want some more, water?"

He raised his eyes toward me again. "No," he said in a hoarse voice.

Jeez, he sounded like he needed it. "No? You sure?" He didn't answer. He just looked miserable, and might I add vulnerable which he was.

"All right," I said as I set the water down. Davis gave a few short coughs before settling down. Then he looked up at me again, but this time, he didn't seem to see me so clear.

"Where's mom?" he asked softly.

I frowned. "How should I know? Probably at home. I'm getting rid of you at a hospital. The sooner we get there, the faster I'm done with your ass."

I laid him back down flat on the seat. Davis didn't protest in anyway. I didn't think he could because he looked like he was gonna pass out again.

"They, attacked me mom," he muttered. "Sorry I didn't, tell you before."

What could I do? All I could do was stare. I didn't know what to say. Obviously he was losing it, and there was nothing I could do about it, except get to the hospital as soon as possible.

"Sure," I said as I made to close the back door. But I stopped when he looked at me.

"Sid?" he asked.

I raised a curious eyebrow. "Yeah?" I asked slowly.

Davis didn't get to finish saying whatever he wanted to say to me. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as his eyelids came down. He was out again. I bit my lip and refrained from telling him a "Sweet Dreams". I shut the door and hopped into the front seat again. I turned around and looked at Davis. He only appeared to be sleeping at the moment. I wanted to curse him for all the trouble he put me through, but I realized I really couldn't. It was my choice to do this after all. I didn't have to give a damn. I could've ignored the whole thing, minded my own business and avoided the dump for at least a month. But I didn't.

I really couldn't.

I was a garbage man and my job was to help get rid of things, things that nobody wanted, yet I managed to do the opposite most of the time. I saved things that people thought were useless trash. And now I had done it again. Those punks thought Davis was trash and deserved to be in the dump. Only real useless things deserved to be in my dump, and one of them wasn't Davis. Sure he annoyed the hell out of me, but too many people believed he was worth something.

I couldn't say the same for me. I had always belonged in the dump. Not Davis though.

I curse myself for feeling so sentimental, but it couldn't be helped. My hideaway was stained with blood and I had to do something about it. I had to fix this wrong and be the hero.

As I drove along the quiet, dark road, I couldn't help thinking what would have happened if I hadn't become a garbage man who saved things that shouldn't be thrown away. Davis sure didn't deserve to be thrown away. But those were just thoughts.

**I think the inspiration for having Sid enjoy his job came from other fanfic writers who had Sid enjoying that employment. I don't think anyone's made Sid a drug addict, but that's part of the garbage in this story. Being that this is a first person point of view, I found it a little challenging to write since we don't really know Sid in his teens. All we get from him is his childhood days where he blew up toys, and only a glimpse of him in TS3. **

**Like I said earlier, this was based off of a topic on a talk show and now you know the topic was about bullying. I've already written two other Toy Story fics, (one of them, the movie like adventure Toy Size), and this is nothing like them being that it's so dark. I would have loved to write another Andy/Woody tale, but here the focus is on Sid being the unlikely hero. The term of garbage clearly has a lot of references for what's going on. Sid found Andy in a tragic state and he and you can only assume all of what happened to him. Sid has a pretty bad attitude toward Andy, but in the next two chapters, we'll find out whether that's gonna hurt Andy or help him. **


	2. Found

**For those of you keeping up with this story, here's part 2. **

Found

I never thought, in all my life, I'd be so relieved at seeing a hospital. I'd been there only a couple of times when I was a kid. The biggest reason being me running about, screaming on how the toys were alive; but it wasn't this kind of hospital. Hell if it mattered. A hospital was a place of nosy doctors poking their noses in your business. That was especially true when I once got my ass kicked from a surprise attack. Didn't want to tell em' what happened cause I was the one that started it-and it was over drugs. So I made up something off the top of my head.

I glanced in the rear-view mirror at Davis. If anything, he was getting paler.

I wouldn't have to make up nothing for him. But I wasn't sure if I could say anything at all.

I knew who was responsible even though I didn't see who done it, so, that saves me right there.

I found him, just like that. I wouldn't have to tell no one what I knew about it. It was Davis' problem. It wasn't none of my business.

I'd let them doctors pry into him when he came round, then I'd slip out. The hell if I'm getting involved in his affairs any more than I am now.

I turned the truck up to the curb. The bright lights of the interior assured me I was in a safe place. That it wasn't like a police station where cops would irritate the hell out of me for answers. I could just drop him off here.

Before I even arrived here, I had imagined myself leaping out the truck, running into the waiting room and shouting about the half dead kid in my backseat. But it wasn't like that. I was numb by now, but still panicked. Still, I did jump out the truck, but not before glancing down at my cell that had been on my lap for part of the journey.

By some miracle, Davis had woke up again, this time whining for his mom. He harbored just enough strength to give me the number for contact.

I recorded the number-but I did not make the call. And it wasn't because I was against people talking while driving.

I slipped it in my pocket and flung open the backdoor.

Davis didn't look like he was breathing anymore. It would've been a damn shame if he died right now after I finally made it to the sick house. For what I figured would be the last time, I touched him. My fingers fell against his neck for a pulse. In the many seconds I was doing this, I was cursing myself for wasting time. '_You dumbass, you're not a doctor! The doctors are in there! Get one!'_

But it was like I had to know if I was too late. I listened to myself. I couldn't find a pulse. I turned from Davis, the backdoor still wide open, and ran between the sliding doors crying out.

"Hey! Please!"

Several faces looked up, probably wondering what kind of asshole I was, to walk in disturbing the painful quiet of the waiting room. I turned to the reception desk where an over make-uped blonde was giving me an odd look. Before she could say anything, I blurted out the situation.

"There's a kid in the backseat of my car, ah truck! He's bleedin, he's dying!"

The receptionist stood up and alerted two E.M.T's to follow me to my truck. I jumped aside as they ducked inside to check on Davis.

"He's lost a lot of blood," one of the E.M.T's said to the other.

"He's barely breathing. How'd this happen?" the second one asked me.

Here's where I didn't want to get involved. They were gonna drag me further into Davis's problem. It was his problem, not mine. I shrugged. I'd make up an excuse.

"I..just found him like that. All bloody. I didn't see what happened."

It wasn't a full interrogation because another E.M.T came with the stretcher. The guy that asked me the question was too busy preparing to load Davis on it. They were being as gentle as possible.

"Why are his pants pulled down?" asked the E. M. T that had just joined the others.

The other two traded each other confused looks then they turned to me with a frown. I could tell right away they were thinking I'd done something dirty to him on the way over here. I wasn't about to let them off the hook with the wrong idea.

"It's not what you think!" I told them. "I found him that way, and I wasn't going to touch him...in case, you know..."

I was still trying to explain as this part of my story was true. I wasn't about to pull up another guy's shorts. But they didn't wait around to hear the answer. They were already wheeling Davis out of my sight. One of them signaled to me to follow.

"Come on kid. We may need you to answer a few questions."

That was the last thing I wanted. One or two questions was enough.

"I already told you. I don't know anything about this."

"Wait here," one of them ordered as he and the others wheeled him into the emergency room. I sighed and looked around. The few people in the room did nothing to ease the tension. They were all already tense. Probably waiting for news on how screwed a family member or friend was. Well I didn't want to be one of those people. I wasn't anyways. Davis wasn't my friend. He was just some jerk that got straight A's all the time. Someone who probably thought he was better than the rest of us who got straight D's and F's.

Hell, I didn't wanna be here. I had better things to do. And even though that was the case, I still plopped down on one of the seats in the corner. I figured I'd talk my way out of any questions they threw at me. Deny that I knew Davis and what had happened to him. I figured if I got through with it now, they had no reason to try and hunt me down if I walked out. Surely there were cameras around takin photos of me. I wouldn't want to be on their wanted list for questions, if such a thing existed.

I sat there, not taking any interest in the people or the t.v they were watching. I was just staring at the floor, annoyed at Davis for draggin me into this. But when I thought that, I couldn't help looking over at the double doors that led into the emergency ward. What if they couldn't save him? What if...he died?

When that thought came to mind, I had no choice but to think of what his family would think. If he was dead in there, it would be a while before they were told what happened. It could take weeks for them to even find out who he is.

Okay. I really didn't think it would take that long, but the fact of the matter remained. I was dragged into this, so if Davis did die, they would remember I was the one that brought him in. I'd be caught, literally red handed (due to all the blood), and I'd get blamed for not admitting I knew the guy. It had been a long time since I'd last seen Davis' mom and little sister. I had never paid much attention to them before when they lived next door. But with that possibility of getting in deeper on my mind, I decided to make the contact first.

I pulled out my cell and dialed the number. _'Don't die on me Davis,'_ I silently thought to myself. _'Don't die on them.'_

The phone rang once, then twice, then three times before there was a click. I literally tensed when I heard someone answer.

"Hello?"

I didn't answer at first. I was struggling with the idea of telling her anything at all.

"Hello?" she asked uncertainly. I sighed. I really didn't want to be getting into this. Well it was too late to back out now. I could've just hung up, but her uncertainty kept me from doing it.

"Uh, is this, Mrs. Davis?" I said, just as bewildered as she sounded.

"Who is this?" She sounded worried and very suspicious.

"Ah, I know your kid, Andy. I go to his school. Listen, something happened to, him. He's been hurt, bad."

"What! Who is this?" Now she sounded hysterical. If she'd had seen him the way I had, she would have dropped dead. I ignored her second question.

"I've taken him to Regional State Hospital. You might wanna hurry."

"But, what-"

I hung up before she could finish her question. I stared at the phone for a few minutes, finding it hard to believe that I had just done that. Why had I just done that? It's not like I owed Davis anything. I shook my head. I wasn't going to think about it now. Then my phone started to ring, just as I was putting it in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw it was the same number I called. Davis' mom calling me back for more information. I just stared at it, but I didn't answer it. I put it in my pocket and just let it ring.

I went for my other pocket where my grass was still safely tucked away. I never needed a drag so bad as I did now, but getting away with it in here was not possible. Slowly I stood up and stepped outside.

Here, I let go. I leaned against the side of the building and took in all the smoke like it was a fresh breath of sweet air. I gave a heavy sigh then. The weight of the garbage I had found was someone else's load. I could relax now. I could go home and forget all about this. No doubt Davis would forget. I was sure he wouldn't remember me saving him. He was half dead when he was awake and spoke to me.

Whatever. The hell did I care if he did manage to remember. I could always turn it against him. He'd owe me big time for savin his ass. Maybe money wise. But then if he knew, his mom would know. And if she knew, so would a lot of t.v stations, followed by the school. I'd become a hero, and I wasn't no hero. I was the garbage.

I was the sorry, dope using garbage boy who got into trouble, made bad grades and would never amount to anything. That included being the kind of person who would help someone out. Least of all the goody-two-shoes pain in the ass Davis.

I took another drag and sighed. I was imagining how it'd be if everyone did know what I'd done. If I marched right back in there and told them everything. That meaning I'd tell them my name, but not the names of the punks responsible for this crap. No need to have them on my case for not letting him die. They never bothered me. I was as invisible as a crushed can on the side of a waste basket. I wasn't shining gold like their target. But even if I was, I could take them. Unlike the victim, I could be a fighter.

Yeah, I could go in there and spill it. But I wasn't going to.

"Yeah right," I said out loud. "I ain't gonna give you the satisfaction."

I wasn't gonna let Davis spread out the idea that I was some kind of saint. I wasn't. Not to people anyway. Only to the things people threw away.

But that wasn't counting Davis.

I didn't know how long I'd been leaning against the building. I wasn't even sure why I was still hanging around. My part of the job was done. I finished the cig and flicked it to the side. I was going to head home and hop into bed. Forget this night ever existed. As I turned to head for my truck, the question of how I was ever going to return to my hide-away on my mind, I saw a panicked blonde woman hurrying into the double doors of the hospital while dragging a pale blonde headed girl behind her.

"Shit," I cursed. It was them. Mrs. Davis and her other kid. But it didn't really matter. They didn't know it was me that called. So I went about my business. I headed to my truck and was determined not to look around. But I couldn't help it. Curiosity got the better of me and I had to look.

Inside, I could see the receptionist trying to calm her down and explain. The little girl was paying close attention, but I could also see she looked a little bored. That was a tween for yah. Hannah had gone through the same thing with me. At some point she stopped caring about me. But this girl was pale. I glanced up at the mother. She was really upset. I turned away. I wondered if my own mom and sister would act that way if something like this happened to me. I knew my damn father wouldn't.

I looked back up and jumped. The receptionist was pointing in my direction and Mrs. Davis turned to look at me through the door. No doubt she had told me I was the one who brought him in.

I quickly stuck my keys in the door and opened it. I was gonna fly outta here before she got a good look at my face. There was the possibility she wouldn't remember me, but I wasn't gonna take any chances.

"Wait!" I heard her shout.

I didn't look around. I put my attention into getting out of here. But by the time I jumped in the driver's seat, Mrs. Davis was already at the passenger's window.

"Wait! Please! Are you the one that brought my son?"

My hand froze on the ignition. I couldn't move.

"Please, are you?"

She sounded so desperate. Like one of those mothers who panicked the moment her kids got a small cut on a finger. I didn't look at her to see it though. I could hear it in her voice. The last thing I wanted was for her to break me down. To get me to feel sorry for her kid that was probably dead on the operating table.

"I think you're mistaken lady," I said. I should have stuffed my foot in my mouth for saying anything at all. As it turned out, Mrs. Davis had sharp ears.

"No I'm not. You're the one I talked to on the phone," she accused. "You're the one that-"

"So what if I am," I remarked. "He's here, that's all that matters."

I had looked at her when I said it. I watched her fright transform into determination. She moved away from the window, walked in front of the truck and stepped up to my window. For a moment she just stood there, staring at me. Studying my face. It annoyed the heck out of me so I looked away. I could have driven off, but she had her hands glued to the inside of the car door. If I had pulled off I was sure I'd be dragging her behind me.

"You're Sid Phillips aren't you?"

So she did remember me. I gritted my teeth. Slowly I looked back at her. She was staring at me with such disbelief.

"You are," she decided. "How did you find Andy? How did...what happened?"

"Lady...Mrs. Davis-"

"It's Ms. Davis actually. His father..." She started to tell me, but quickly waved it off. "It doesn't matter. What matters is Andy. Please, how did you find him? What happened? Did you see anything?"

I leaned my head back against the headrest. Here again was the last thing I wanted. An interrogation. Especially an interrogation from Davis' s mom. I rolled my eyes toward her. She was so pale and frightened, but at the same time she seemed determined to get the truth out of me. It didn't matter. I was gonna give her the same excuse I gave to the E. M. T's whether she believed it or not.

"I didn't see nothing. I just found him that way."

"But where?" she demanded.

I gritted my teeth. The last thing I wanted to do was reveal my secret spot. My private hideaway would probably be covered in cops sent by her to find a better explanation. I scoffed and shrugged. Then I quickly turned the ignition.

"I just found him on the side of the road."

"But." She reached for my arm, but I wasn't about to let her stall me any longer.

"Look, I gotta go. Ask your son about it. If he ain't already dead."

At that last remark of mine, Ms. Davis lost some of her confidence. Her hands dropped, so I used that opportunity to hit the gas and get the hell out of here.

I knew it was a nasty thing to do. Leave her with the thought that her kid might be a goner, but she had to face reality. The way he was beaten, there was less than a fifty fifty chance he'd live. I knew how those punks operated. Once Casey got a hold on you, your family was already pickin out caskets. But, it didn't feel that way. Not yet. I got him here on time, but that didn't mean it did any good.

Like I said, I wasn't no hero. I didn't and couldn't save no one. I was only good at saving trash.

As that thought came to mind, I glanced in the rearview mirror. Ms. Davis looked like she was in a trance as she walked back toward the hospital. Her daughter met her halfway and grabbed her in a hug. I turned my eyes back to the road. When I hit a red light, I couldn't help looking back in the backseat where Davis' near dead body had been. The color red made a nasty decoration on the brown seats. I stared at that red long enough for the guy behind me to honk, letting me know the light had turned green. I took the hint and concentrated on the road again. I used the streets to try and switch my thoughts. I wasn't gonna think about Davis anymore. That was over with. He was someone else's problem now, and if he didn't make it, it wasn't my concern.

But...I couldn't help thinking of it as a concern.

The four days that followed should have been nothing but regular days. But they weren't to me. They were abnormal. They were stressful, and I knew why. It was that damn Davis! That's what it was. No matter how much I tried not to think about him or what I'd done, it kept coming back to me. Maybe it's cause of my regular routine at work. Every time I found something of interest that was discarded in the dump, I saw Davis lying not too far away. I pictured him just as I saw him. Half naked and all bloody. I had to shake my head to clear it, otherwise the guys would think I was losing my mind. They were already starting to wonder why I kept shaking my head. It was crazy. It was like the whole thing was making me feel guilty, and I had nothing to feel guilty about.

And to prove it, I spent a lot more time watching the news. No news was good news to me, but in this case, it wasn't. Davis's story had been on the local news a few times. The first time it came on, I was crossing the living room, behind the couch where my parents sat watching it. I froze when Davis' name came up. I tensed like a deer caught in the headlights. As I listened to the reporter explaining the situation, I was waiting for her to mention my name. To say Sid Phillips had something to do with it. She didn't. But then the one who could say my name came up. It was Ms. Davis being interviewed by the reporter. The unavoidable question came up of her son's rescuer. I tensed even more as she turned her full attention to the camera. For that moment, it was like our eyes had connected. I was staring into hers through the t.v screen, willing her not to mention me. And like some miracle it was like she heard me. She gave her answer.

"I don't know who he was. All he told me was that he found my son on the side of the road."

The reporter suspected the unknown rescuer had something to do with her son's state, but Ms. Davis explained that they couldn't be sure. Luckily she turned the attention back to her kid instead of on the mysterious hero. I had let a great sigh of relief escape me. I was off the hook. I had nothing to prove to no one.

But then I glanced down at my parents. My mom thought it was crazy that the rescuer didn't come forward. My dad thought she should have offered the hero some kind of reward. Their thoughts started a feeling of regret. I couldn't believe it. I was actually wishing Ms. Davis had said my name. To let em know I wasn't worthless. I wasn't garbage. That I could do something, well, incredible like saving a kid's life.

But the story had gone back to Davis. The reporter letting us know that her kid was still unconscious and receiving treatment.

After that I had walked away, headed to my room. My mind was a whirl of thoughts again. Then Hannah came along looking worried.

"Did you hear the news?" she asked. "The kid that used to live next to us got beat up."

"Yeah, I heard," I admitted sourly.

"Maybe we should visit him," she decided.

"You visit," I sneered. "It ain't my problem."

Of course Hannah thought this was normal for me. I had never been the nice guy in her eyes. I was as useless of a bastard as everyone thought I was. She didn't know my thoughts. My conflicting thoughts of how Davis was doing. She only heard my words that was an expression of me.

"Jerk," she accused. She stomped away. "Why don't you start caring about someone other than yourself!"

Hannah didn't know, that I did.

That had been the first day. In the second and third, Davis had woken up. Once again I kept an ear out for my name, but it was never given. Nobody knew. There wasn't no evidence, except the blood on my shirt from that night. But I had taken care of it before anyone spotted it. The only time I'd ever done laundry.

It was now the fourth day. I realized I didn't have to worry about Davis anymore, but it wasn't like I was completely tuned out to him. That damn kid still haunted me, and so did the idea of his mom confessing about my actions. Regardless, I tried to keep up my regular routine. I briefly considered returning to my dump, my secret hideaway, but I quickly dumped the idea.

There was too much blood there-too much.

Besides, I worried there was a chance Davis would somehow let em' in on where he'd been, and that would lead to it being more vandalized or some crap like that. Whatever. I didn't care. I didn't believe it was possible, that Davis would remember where he'd been or what had happened anyways.

But that was before I got the call.

Right before I left for school, my cell rang.

I felt the tension immediately and I hadn't even looked to see who was calling. I couldn't. I took the risk and answered the phone, slowly.

"Hel-lo?"

I was practically holding my breath as I waited for the reply.

"Hello. Is this Sid, Sid Phillips?"

I recognized the voice immediately and exhaled. The fact that it was Davis's mom didn't surprise me. It was to be expected, yet I couldn't help my fists trembling. I wanted to hang up. I should have hung up, but I didn't. I didn't say anything.

"Hello? Sid?" she asked.

I sighed. There was no escaping it.

"Yeah," I admitted. She was silent before she continued.

"How have you been?," she asked hesitantly.

"Just fine and dandy," I said as I rolled my eyes.

"Have you, been watching the news?"

"Yeah look, is this small talk going anywhere, cause I got school in a few minutes." It was kind of harsh the way I said it, but I didn't want to put up with the mild conversation anymore. I could tell she wanted something. Well my tones had silenced her briefly, then she became bold.

"I didn't give away your name. I didn't tell them it was you who saved my son."

"Lady-"

"But I did tell him, Andy I mean."

I growled. The last thing I wanted was for him to carry that information around. I couldn't' stand the idea of him holding it over my head.

"You told your kid? Great. That's like telling everybody, the news people, the guys at school.."

"He remembered you saved him. He told me, and I confirmed it. And he's not going to tell anybody, but..."

"But, what?"

"But he does want to see you."

Now I was silenced. That was the last thing I was expecting. A request from Davis, to see me again.

"Please," she begged. "I know it will do him good, and it might do you some good also if you just talk with him."

"And what if I don't, come see him. Is this blackmail? You gonna rat me out with the press? Give em my name?"

"I wouldn't do that, and neither would Andy." She sounded kind of desperate. "Please, he'd really appreciate it. And so would I."

I gritted my teeth. I didn't want to have this conversation. What was worse was that I didn't want to be considering it. I wasn't ever gonna set foot in another hospital again. I hadn't made that promise. I didn't have to. I had no reason to go there. I wasn't expecting to see Davis again until he came back to school. And even when he did come back, I was gonna do my best to avoid him. But for the moment I didn't avoid her. I just let her babble away about which room he was in and how nice it would be for me to come after school. I never said nothing about it. I didn't say I would or anything. As soon as she stopped yakking, I hung up.

I had no intention of walking in that hospital again. I wasn't about to set foot in Davis's room. So why the hell was I doin it? School was over and I could do whatever I wanted. So why was I going to the hospital?

Cause I'm as much of a dumbass as Davis. Cause I didn't have to work today. And cause, something told me I had to see for myself that the pain in the neck hadn't died. I stepped through the glass doors, calm this time instead of hysterical. That over make-uped blonde was there again. She gave me an odd look just like before, but there was also a mix of, I don't know...pity? I ignored it and just concentrated on walking. But at the same time I kept telling myself to turn around. _Get the hell outta here! You don't owe Davis nothin! _I didn't care about him.

"I don't...I don't," I kept telling myself. Like positive reinforcement.

I didn't even like him. The goody two-shoes perfect A+ student.

I pushed past the double doors and down a plain white hall. _'Why am I doing this?_' I wondered. It wasn't for Davis. No. I didn't care. Maybe it was for his mom. Yeah. To shut her up. To make sure she didn't tell no one, cause I did show up even though I didn't want to. Even though I could have cared less if he hadn't made it.

I was moving pass a hall of patient's rooms, and much to my annoyance I was focusing on the right door. Room 423 was a serious room. I hadn't realized I'd passed into the intensive care ward.

_'So what...it doesn't matter. I don't care.'_ I wanted to believe I didn't care more than anything. If I believed it then I would know for sure, that I wasn't the hero. I was still trash. Trash still carrying a small bag of trash in his pocket. _'God I needed a drag. Why didn't I take a drag before I came in here?'_

The room was getting closer. Doctors were passing in and out of my sight. Some of them with charts, others with needles. I flinched when I saw a doc wheeling a patient on a bed to the elevator. She was wired to a machine that showed her vitals. I paused to watch her until the elevator doors shut. I don't know why, but she briefly made me wonder how bad off Davis was. If he was wired to a machine. If I would encounter a brain dead person who could barely speak.

_'Big deal,'_ I thought angrily. I didn't feel sorry for him. Not that perfect golden boy. If anything, he deserved it.

I had thought that right at the moment I found myself standing outside of room 423. At that moment, most of my hate-filled thoughts had washed away. But the thought of him deserving it didn't, and I partially wished I hadn't thought it.

I took a deep breathe and stepped inside.

The room was miserably white, like the rest of the hospital. And like the rest of the hospital, the smell of disinfectant was strong. I'd been ignoring it up until this point, because of him.

"Damn," I muttered.

Luckily I hadn't said it too loud because one of the first things I noticed was Ms. Davis sitting by the bed with her back to me, covering her kid from view. She was holding onto his hand. I briefly looked down at mine. My mom never did that.

His mom dropped his hand and turned to me. She looked mildly surprised to see me.

"Sid," she said quietly. "For a minute, I didn't think you'd come."

I fidgeted and looked down at my feet. I couldn't believe she was making me feel so...I don't know...awkward. Nobody made me feel that way.

"Yeah well..." I trailed off.

"I'm glad you came," she said as she stood. Once she stepped away from the bed, I was able to get a good look at Davis. I actually felt a shock from looking at him.

There he was, propped up against his pillows, shirtless for the sake of his bandaged chest and all the wires and the I.V that were stickin in him. Like the patient I'd seen being wheeled in the elevator, he was hooked to a few machines that were beeping away. Letting anyone walking in the room know the kid was alive. He still looked battered and bruised, and so did his face when my eyes moved up to it. His right eye was still black and swollen. There were still scratches on his face. And if it weren't for the fact that he was staring right at me, I would've thought he was dead. He looked a lot more alive here than he did in my dump. Well, partially alive. He still looked pretty weak. I mean he couldn't have been all that great if he was in the ICU.

But the look he was giving me, told me he wasn't so weak. Like his damn spirit was strong enough to live within that pale, half-dead looking body.

It was silent. It was just us, staring at each other. Right now it was like Davis had more life than I did, because I was frozen. Ms. Davis was looking between me and her kid.

"Well, I'll leave you two alone," she said as she walked over to the door. "And Andy, if you need anything, press the call button."

Davis gave a small nod, letting his eyes drop to his blanket covered legs. It made me wonder if it was really him who wanted to talk, or his mom's idea. To get us to buddy up or some shit like that. Well that wasn't gonna happen. I drew the line there. I didn't care about Davis and, if that was her intention, I was gonna tell her so. If my thoughts had been heard, she probably wouldn't have closed the door and trapped us in.

I shifted on my feet again and forced myself to look at Davis. To look at him with hate for draggin me in his affairs. Davis was still looking at his legs. I still glared at him. I wasn't gonna say nothing. And if he wasn't gonna say nothing I was gonna get the hell out of this miserable place. I turned to do just that. I turned my back on him again.

"You know," he said quietly. "I never did say bye to you."

I turned around, frowning. He had a small smile on his face, but he was still looking down at his legs. It was like he was reminiscing.

"Huh? What are you talkin about?" I asked.

He turned to me again. His blue eyes looking really bright.

"I never said bye, before we moved."

A moment of silence followed. For me, I was still confused.

"Hey Sid, why don't you sit down."

I couldn't help feeling a little lost, and awkward. I had a feeling this was going to be a long conversation. Of course I could have turned my back and walked right out the door. What was he gonna do? Run after me? He couldn't do shit about my decision. I didn't have to talk to him if I didn't want to.

Davis just looked at me, waiting for me to decide. I sighed and took the place of him mom by the bed.

But that didn't mean I cared about what he had to say.

**This story is pretty detailed, especially where dialogue is concerned. Sid is still annoyed by Andy, but he got him to the hospital. There's one more chapter to go. So keep reading and reviewing!**


	3. Treasured

**Disclaimer: I don't own Toy Story**

**Here's the last part of Garbage. Those of you who have been following, I appreciate it. So here Sid has agreed to talk to Andy. This is a dialogue driven chapter, but a lot of things come out in the open. Will a bond between them form? **

Treasured

Minutes passed without him saying anything. I wasn't gonna say nothing until he did, but I didn't want to wait either. If the only reason he called me up here was to look at him with pity, maybe to get me to feel more like a hero, then he was out of luck. I started to tell him off when he cut in first.

"I remembered," he muttered.

"What?"

"I don't know how, but I remembered it was you that saved me."

I twitched at his use of the word "saved". It felt strange to hear that anyone would think I could save anything, other than trash. But, I couldn't admit Davis was trash. I shifted awkwardly under his gaze.

"I was, just in the right place."

"My mom said you found me on the side of the road," he challenged. "But I know it's not true."

"Oh yeah? You callin me a liar?" I said angrily. "What do you know about what I did?"

Davis looked like he was considering what to say, or trying to figure out why I'd gotten so pissed off.

"Well, I don't. But I knew where I was. Don't worry, I didn't tell my mom."

Now it was my turn to figure him out.

"How could you know where you were? You were half dead when, I..when I found you."

Davis looked away, frowning. He looked troubled, like he didn't wanna share the secret, and I didn't really care to hear it all. But I was still curious.

"Well I, heard them say they were taking me there, when they were...done with me." That ashamed look of his confirmed what I had thought. The reason for the pants being pulled down.

"You mean Casey and those thugs he hangs with?"

"Yeah," he said quietly.

I didn't think we'd hit the subject of what happened to him so soon, but I had expected as much. Of course no one but Casey would beat the shit out of him, among the other thing that I cringed when I thought it. I could tell he didn't want to talk about it, and I didn't want to hear it. But he handled it well. It was like he had enough time to get over it, but even that wasn't long enough. I didn't wanna care. Davis wasn't gonna get me to pity him. He probably wasn't lookin for pity, not from anyone. Maybe not even his mom, which made me wonder if he even told her that much. What they _did_ to him.

"You, tell your mom it was them?" I mumbled.

He shook his head and groaned slightly. "No. I couldn't."

That answered the previous question. I leaned back a little and took in the sight before me. The medical equipment meant to keep him alive. He himself still looked like shit, but I had to admit his doctors were doing okay by him. I assumed he'd probably be outta here in two weeks.

"I'm surprised you weren't apart of it."

Davis had spoken so low I barely caught it.

"What? What do you mean apart of it?" I sneered. Davis was looking at me as if he was a little ashamed to say it. Then it dawned on me what he was talking about. "You mean part of Casey's group?"

Davis nodded. I sighed and leaned back again. Now came the time for me to tell him how much of a good guy I was.

"I'm a lot of things Davis, but that doesn't mean I'm one of Casey's punks. I'm lookin out for me, not some whole group."

"Andy."

"Huh?"

"We're not in the military. Call me by my first name. And I don't think you're that selfish, otherwise I'd be dead."

"Wha...I said I was just in the right place at the right time. I never saved you from them all the other times they kicked your ass."

At that Davis...Andy seemed disappointed to hear that. I actually felt a little ashamed for admitting it.

"No one helped me," he admitted. "I'm not sure how I'd feel if they did. If they knew they were beating me up."

"I think most of the school could figure that out whether you said anything or not."

At that, Andy actually relaxed a little more. If it were me, I would have tensed from the idea of everyone knowing my secret. Hell, I'd tense if they knew what I was smokin.

"Guess it doesn't matter," he said. "I couldn't go on like that, keeping that secret. I almost died because of it."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I looked down at my feet.

"You said you were a lot of things. Why weren't you one of Casey's thugs?"

He looked at me like he was surprised.

"What? You hopin I was?"

"No, I mean. I don't know you Sid, all I know is what I remember from you being my next door neighbor."

I couldn't help cracking a smile at what he probably thought of me then. _'Who's that crazy kid blowin stuff up all the time?'_ Those were the good old days. Then it changed. My smile slipped away when I thought of that unnatural incident with the toys. I actually shivered. I hated still being affected like that.

"Damn," I muttered.

"Yeah, those were kind of my thoughts too, at the time," he said. He was smiling, thinking that curse was for myself.

"We never really...I mean we didn't talk, as kids."

"No. My mom was kind of disturbed by you, and so was I, a little."

"A little?"

"Sometimes I was curious about what you did over there. Making all that noise. But when I first found out why that was, I wasn't. I mean blowing up toys. That was such a terrible thing to do. So careless."

Great, he was lecturing me on my past actions. "What are you my mom? I blew toys up because I felt like it. And in case you didn't know, I stopped."

"When?"

"When you left."

Andy was caught off guard by this. Then I realized he had the wrong idea.

"No no no, it's not like I'm saying you inspired me or some crap like that. It's just, something happened to make me stop."

"What happened?" he asked curiously. But I was angry he was turning the interrogation on me.

"It's none of your business!" I practically yelled. "I didn't come here to talk about me."

Andy folded some, but didn't push. He was obviously very curious at what turned me around, or more importantly what made me decide to save him. I decided to change the subject before he could ask about it another way.

"Does it...does it hurt?" I asked sheepishly. I could have kicked my own ass for asking something so personal. So embarrassing. It was like I was concerned, and I wasn't. Andy looked down at himself, looking a little flattered.

"Ah, not so much now. Hurt a lot worse when they, jumped me."

Suddenly Andy wasn't looking too good. I scoffed and shook my head.

"They did a real number on you. If it were me, it'd be them in here."

"I can believe it, but I'm not much of a fighter."

"No shit," I agreed. "You need to hire someone to protect your ass."

Andy grinned at that one.

"Maybe it should be you."

I couldn't help paling instead of seeing the joke.

"I don't think so," I said seriously. So he could drop it in case he was serious.

After a long moment of silence, he spoke. "Yeah, I guess it shouldn't be you. I mean, you didn't help me until after you found me."

It felt like an accusation, more so now since I admitted I never helped him before. But I couldn't afford to let him make me feel guilty. I'd had enough of that kind of guilt trip anyway.

"You're just like your mom," I spat.

"Huh?"

"She went to the small talk before she got down to what she really wanted." Andy smiled softly at that.

"Guess she wasn't quite sure how to talk to you. Hardcore Sid," he teased. I rolled my eyes.

"What about you? What'd you want to see me for?"

Andy went to folding in on himself again, but not as much as before. He looked at me with something of great gratitude in his eyes. I should've seen what was coming, but such words never occurred to me. I didn't hear them often. Hell, I don't think I've heard them at all.

"Well, I thought it was kind of obvious," he started. "I called you up here because I..I wanted to say thanks. Thanks for saving me."

_'Dammit'_ I thought bitterly. He had to get all mushy on me. I sat back, totally indifferent to his words, but in truth, I was touched, sorta. I mean since I've never heard anyone really say that to me, it made me feel, odd. I wanted to say "Don't mention it", "No big deal" or "No problem", but I couldn't. I wasn't that kind of person and I wasn't gonna let him turn me into one.

"Ya know I watched a lot a news lately, seein if you...I mean if your mom was gonna give me up as your hero." Andy raised his eyebrows slightly, but didn't say anything. I kept going. "I guess she realized she was right when you said it was me that did it."

"What do you mean?"

"The front desk nurse ratted me out to your mom on the night I brought you in. Told her it was me. Then you had to go and remember..." I paused. I hadn't thought back at our mini conversation since that night. "Damn Andy, you remembered everything don't you?"

Andy only bit his lip, looking confused, but I wasn't buyin it.

"You do don't you?"

"I did say I remembered it was you who saved me didn't I?" he asked.

"I'm talking about everything else. How awake were you in the back of my truck?"

Andy frowned and turned away. Then he smiled again to my annoyance, at what he was thinking.

"I remembered you, giving me water. You were, really taking care of me weren't you?"

Jeez, the way he said it sounded like he was willing to hold it over me. But something told me he wasn't that kind of kid. He was the golden student after all. Mr. good-guy.

"Let me guess, it's not something you would normally do right?" he asked. He looked so smug I could have punched him; if he hadn't already been punched, several times.

"If you mean cradling guys in my arms and bottle-feedin em water then no," I confirmed. "And you'd better not tell anyone that, or I'll make your life a living hell."

Andy threw his hands up in mock surrender.

"Okay okay...ow!"

He quickly lowered his left hand and rubbed it. I couldn't help tensing. The last thing I wanted to see was the kid goin into shock.

"What's up?"

"I'm okay...just, gotta take it easy," he said, but he was hissing in pain. "My left side's still not well."

That made me wonder if he was a lot more worse off than I thought.

"How long, they say you gonna be in here?"

Andy shrugged. "Not too long. If I'm okay at the start of next week, I might be able to go home."

I let my thoughts wonder to that idea. What would Casey and his pals do without Andy for that long? Sure they could take the next perfect kid and turn him into mince meat. There were a lot of them out there, but the truth of the matter was, was Andy stood out. Casey would be too bored without him. But they'd wait. Unless Andy decided to open his mouth about them, they'd still be there, waiting to pounce his ass again. The nasty memory of his pants pulled down flashed in front of my eyes. I never wanted to think about the possibilities there again. And to help me feel worse about it, I had to raise my eyes up to him. He was watching me curiously and I quickly looked away. I hated making that connection. It wasn't right. Shit, it was freaky. Golden boy Davis at his most vulnerable. Those doctors of his had only seen the outside work of what happened. There was no telling what else happened, or whether or not he decided to tell. _No_! I scolded myself. I wasn't about to start thinking those things, or even asking about them.

So, as I was trying to think of something to say, my eyes wandered across to the table near the window. I gasped in surprise at what I saw. It was the nightmare coming back to me. There, propped against a pitcher of water, vacant eyes looking back at me was that freaky cowboy doll that had haunted me since I was ten years old. I actually gripped my seat as the tension started to climb.

"What's wrong?" Andy asked, concerned.

I didn't say anything. I was still staring at that cowboy and he was still staring back at me. What the hell was he doing here? Since when did that doll follow me around? And now, when I had Davis' shit to deal with?

"Hey!" Andy cried. "You all right?"

I shifted to him, probably lookin' like a scared rabbit. That's what I was at the moment. But I didn't give a damn. I had a right to be super freaked out. Andy followed my eyes to what I was looking at, but apparently he didn't see the terror.

"What's that, doing here?" I demanded. I pointed to the cowboy doll with a shaky finger. Jeez, if I passed out now, I was in the right place for it. Andy looked around again, frowning.

"You mean Woody?"

I was irked the thing had a name. That miserable cowboy doll. Then it hit me, that Andy knew him.

"What? Woody? What the hell is that thing doing here?"

He was frowning like he had a serious problem with my tone. I still didn't give a damn about his feelings.

"My sister, thought it would be funny to bring my old favorite toy down here. I don't know. Maybe she meant to really make me feel better with him."

"Your toy?" I asked, like it was that simply.

"Well, when I was a kid. But I don't really play with him anymore."

He looked over at that damn doll, and a strange expression crossed his face. Like he was sad about the last part he said; the 'not playing with him' part. It was crazy. If this was his toy. If that awful talking cowboy was his toy, then he should have known what it was. What it could do! I looked at the doll again. I thought I'd seen the last of him when I was brave enough to step into my backyard again and found him gone. I thought it was over, but it wasn't. And now I learn the damn thing's connected to Andy!

Was that why he was here? Did he somehow hear that I had been responsible for his owner's life? Or was he only here because he decided to punish me? Or was it all some sick joke of Andy's? Call me down here to scare me with the doll again!

He kept staring; just staring at me! I didn't even have the guts to go over there and knock him on his side to keep him from looking. That bastard doll was watching me!

"Hey, if you don't tell anyone about him, I won't tell anyone that you were cradling me in your arms," Andy teased. Hell, this wasn't a joke. This was serious.

"Screw you Andy!" I cried. "Joke all you want. I want to know why the hell he's here."

Andy looked at me like he was more disturbed then ever.

"What's wrong with you? You're acting like you're scared of him."

I didn't answer. I didn't want the fear to show, but it was obvious. Andy's eyes widened.

"You are...but, why?" he asked. His voice was so soft, so full of concern. It made me sick. I didn't want nor need his pity. If anything it should be the other way around, but I didn't pity him. I hated that I was the one folding in. Feeling exposed. "Is it that something that happened, after I left?"

He sounded confused by his own question. I wanted to deny it, but he already caught me. Besides that I still couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Just like you Davis," I said sourly. "Sharp. Know-it-all. You know that's why Casey and his gang beat on you."

He pursed his lips and gave me a hard stare, not unlike his cowboy doll.

"We're talking about you now, even if you don't want to. Why are scared of Woody?"

I gave a dry laugh. "You're gonna think I'm crazy, but, I don't give a shit. Maybe I was crazy." I paused and glanced over at the doll again. It was strange, but in a way, it was like his expression had changed to fear. It didn't make any sense at all. He still had that goofy smile, but somehow...

I shook my head and turned away. "Maybe I am crazy," I whispered to myself. I reached my hand in my pocket and pulled out my secret stash. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Andy glance down at it. I could tell he wanted to lecture me, but he reframed from doing so. Instead, he waited patiently for me to spill the beans.

"I know it's crazy, but I found that doll at Pizza Planet and I brought him home-to _play_. But he decided to play with me instead. He's what made me stop. To this day, I still don't know if it was for real or not. Him coming alive...along with all my toys! That damn doll messed me up." My fist pounded on the armrest. "Then it was gone, and I was...I wasn't who I was, anymore. I wasn't the kid who blew up toys."

I stopped. My head was dropped cause I was scared to see his reaction. If it meant our talk was officially over, then I was more then fine with that. I raised my eyes up to him. He looked shocked, but he wasn't freaked. In my opinion, he handled it better than I would if it were him telling me what I just said. Then he looked over at Woody and down at his hands.

"You said they came, _alive_?" he asked.

It was hard to tell if he was being sarcastic or not. I couldn't look at him properly. I just nodded.

"And because of them you stopped, destroying your toys?"

"Y-yeah. No one knows about it. I mean, it scared the shit out of me enough for my mom to get in my business about it. Man. Serious psycho therapy."

I felt the pressure drop. A great weight lifted, but I was still stressed from revealing that dark secret of mine. Andy didn't say anything for a while and I didn't want him to. When he did say something, he didn't say what I thought he would.

"Did they do anything? Say anything to you?" he asked me. His voice was dripping with curiousness. He wasn't making fun, he was asking a simple question.

"That doll, your cowboy, told me I had to take better care of my toys." I sucked up my courage enough to stare into the eyes of his so-called Woody. He stared right back, no emotion this time. "He told me the toys were always watching. In his words...I had to..._'play nice'_." I didn't expect my voice to shake at that last part. I didn't expect I would ever utter those words. Hell, I didn't expect I would ever see that cowboy again.

"So you played, _nice_," he said in that same expressionless manner. That did it. I jumped up, knocked over my chair and stood over him, raging.

"It's not funny Davis, so shut-up!"

"I wasn't making fun of you," he said, sounding very apologetic. "I was just-"

"Is everything all right in here?"

We turned as a nurse peeked her head in the doorway. She looked pretty damn concerned, and she gave me a dark look.

"Yeah, it's fine," Andy said. Nice enough to cover for my anger. "We were just talking pretty loud."

"Okay, but you're visiting time with your friend is almost over. The doctor will be in soon."

"Yeah, okay."

She nodded at him, then gave me another dark look before leaving. I shook my head. I was never surprised by the dark looks people gave me. I absorbed them. It was all natural. They looked at me like I was garbage. Like they knew I was garbage. I was.

Her interruption, was a good thing actually. It calmed me down. With nothin' else to do, I positioned my chair back and sat down. My head was in my hand, stressed even more.

"Sorry," he apologized. I looked up. He looked like he was now going to be really careful about what he said. "I wasn't making fun of-"

"I know. You're that kind of person, the golden boy."

"Why do you have such a problem with that? In fact, why does Casey? I make good grades, I do well in school and that's a bad thing?"

I chuckled at that. "It makes you the nerd Davis. Makes it look like you think you're better than everyone else. That's your problem."

"No, that's their problem." He looked fierce all of a sudden. "And your problem is that grass in your pocket."

"What."

"That's probably where that crazy dream came from, of toys coming to life."

"It wasn't no dream Davis, I was only a kid back then. I wasn't usin. It was real."

There was a beat in which it looked like he truly believed me. More so than before.

"Then why did you, start using?"

Dammit, if I knew he was gonna turn this simple visit into a special therapy session, I never would have showed up. What right did he have to know about me? He had no right. But...I did already confess about the toy thing. And...I never, talked to anyone like this. Not even to the few friends I had. They'd never know as much as Davis...Andy. It felt, good. Damn, it felt better than smokin on the trash in my pocket.

"It was the toy thing right? That's what did it? That was the problem."

"There was a lot of problems Davis."

"Andy."

"Whatever. Normal family problems, non proud parents, other kids. But the toy thing helped too. I'm not like you Andy. I don't get the good grades in school. I don't make honor rolls, I don't make teachers happy, especially not my parents. I ain't nothing but a garbage boy. Garbage collecting garbage."

"You don't honestly see yourself that way, do you?"

Jeez, it sounded like he pitied me now. But I'd had enough.

"Look, that nurse said our time was almost up so I might as well go. Unless you wanna talk about inner feelings."

Andy bit his lip and looked down at his covered legs.

"You may be a lot of things, but you're not garbage Sid." He said it was such honesty. Such confidence that I could actually believe it, if I wanted.

"How can you be so sure?" I asked him. I was kind of suspicious of where he was going with this. "You don't know me."

"Of course I don't know you," he said quickly. "But, I've gotten to know you, sorta, throughout this whole talk. From the night you saved me. We never bothered with each other when we were neighbors. We didn't say two words to each other in school. You might be a garbage boy, but that doesn't mean you have to pick up that kind of trash."

He glanced down at the stash in my hands again. He could have called the nurse back in and told her what I was hiding. I could've threatened him or claimed I would deny it if he tried to tell the principal. It was my business that Andy was digging himself in and it pissed me off. But the funny thing was, I wasn't as pissed as I thought. It was like payback. Him owing me something for saving him. It was crazy, but for once I was kinda glad someone was telling me not to use. Like they cared. But that didn't mean I cared about Davis. He wasn't gonna go all mushy on me by saying '_You're not garbage' _or '_You're a good person'_ and all that corny shit. The look he gave me was saying it, and up to this point it was like he understood how to read me. He knew he shouldn't say those words.

"I don't want this kind of trash," I admitted quietly. "Nobody knows that. Nobody, cept a doctor took the time to try and straighten me out and that's only cause he was paid to."

"Well, maybe it's about time," Andy decided. "Maybe it's time you learned. You don't have to be the _golden boy_, like you called me. Nobody tries to hurt you like they did me."

I wanted to say he was wrong. Someone was hurting me, and that someone was me. Why did it take Davis for me to finally listen to that other voice. The one that hated the shit I carried in my pocket, that hated I hated myself sometimes. I looked at my stash then I looked back at him. For some reason, I had to look at that damn cowboy doll of his again. His expression was the same. That stupid smile on his face, but it was like there was another emotion behind it. Satisfaction?

"Guess I have to live with that," he continued. "But you don't. You don't have to collect so many problems. And you don't have to pretend you don't care, that's bull."

I kind of raised my eyebrows at that last part. I never would have expected him to be close to cursing, but his point stuck. I was who I was. I could keep being the outsider, but then there was the drug. I didn't have to take in any of what he was sayin'. I could've ignored it, but in all the time I talked with him, it kind of felt like we were kids. Like we were almost close friends, and I needed a close friend right now. I looked at the trash in my hand again.

"Visiting hours are up!"

I jumped at the sudden announcement of the nurse and I quickly hid my possession in my pocket.

"Ah, yeah whatever. I'm outta here."

The nurse gave a nod then shot Andy a concerned look before pulling away. I turned back to Andy. I hadn't expected to waste so much time with him. I thought I would be in and outta here, not taking anything he said seriously. I expected to hear him praising me over and over for saving his sorry ass, but instead it was like it was the other way around. Andy knew he owed me, big time and I guess he thought the best way to do it was through some advice. Or maybe just a simple talk. He didn't seem confident I would throw my stash away. He wasn't fully telling me to, nor did he threaten to tell. It was my choice. It was always my choice, like my choice to save him rather than leave him.

"Guess I'll see yah around," Andy said as his way of goodbye. I laughed.

"No you won't. We're not friends remember. I did you one favor and that's it."

Andy smiled and nodded. "Yeah, you're right. So I guess I won't see yah."

"Got that right," I told him. I turned. The nurse was waiting to see that I left by the door. It annoyed me instantly. That look she was giving me. Just because I came up here in torn jeans and my favorite skull shirt, she and a hell of a lot of other people looked at me like I was no good. I wasn't. I didn't think I was. But Andy knew the truth. My annoyance increased as I forced myself to look around at him again, pissed that I had to say one more thing before we kept the silence between us.

"You know, those guys, Casey...didn't wanna compete with you."

"What?"

"They were throwing you away. But you're not garbage. You sure as hell didn't belong in my dump." He was too good for it.

I turned my back on him, yet again, making for the door. Andy didn't say anymore. He didn't even say bye. Neither did I. I walked past that nurse as a doctor walked in. Across from the hall, Andy's mom was sitting near the magazines. She looked anxious, even more so when she looked up and saw me. She smiled and gave a nod that was full of gratitude. I didn't say nothing. I turned and walked down the sickening white hallway of the floor. I didn't know what she'd say if she knew what we talked about. I didn't wanna know. I didn't wanna know anything more about the Davis'. I was done with them. I hoped I was done with them, but Andy's words kept ringing in my ears. The whole conversation wasn't something to be thrown away either. It was ridiculous, but it made sense. The part making the most sense was that I had to get rid of the garbage I carried with me, starting with the trash in my pocket.

I stopped as soon as I realized that, and conveniently enough a trash can was right next to me. Like some damn sign to tell me I should do it. I pulled it out and stared at it. It was the heaviest piece of trash I ever carried. Now, it was time to dump it. I let it go, right over the can. Withdrawals would be a bitch, but for some reason I felt I could handle it. Maybe I could do it alone...or maybe, I didn't have to.

"Damn," I cursed, irritated at Andy. I dumped part of my garbage, but the other was still with me. I'd have to get rid of that shit too. The garbage of me believing I was garbage, that I was alone in my family. All Davis had was his mom and little sister. Ever since that toy incident, I thought I had no one and nothin but my dump. I liked it there. It was still my place and so was being a garbage boy. But I didn't necessary cherish everything about me. Davis did, even though it nearly got him killed, and worse. If Andy could cherish who he was, as a nerd, then I could do without trashin myself.

A whole week had past before Davis was released. The days following were average. I was surprised that things actually returned to normal. That included my relationship with Davis. The first few days, he walked the halls like a cat scared shitless. He tried not to let it show, but I noticed. I couldn't help it. Damn him for making me look around the corner for him, or take an interest in his behavior. People came up to him, asking the usual 'Are you okay' or saying 'Glad to have you back'. He wanted to be ignored, invisible like I always was and still was since neither of the Davis's squealed about his rescuer. Otherwise, the people that crowded him would be crowding me saying shit like 'You're a hero!' or 'Way to go!'. I didn't want to hear it. Maybe that was a lie. Maybe I did need to hear it. Earn some kind of respect for once. Step out of the shadows to see what it's like to be in the light like Davis. Then I think about the teachers fawning over his good grades and I change my mind. I liked where I was. I wasn't gonna change for no one. Not even Andy.

But, I had stopped smoking since I trashed my stash.

Casey, I could tell, wanted to get back to his regular routine with Andy. Andy himself couldn't walk the school all skittish, so he eventually let it slip. That gang was already headed for trouble when the principal received too many complaints about them. Soon, they were the ones who were gone. I know Andy was relieved, but at the same time, I could tell he wasn't fully. That could only mean he didn't tell everything that happened between him...and Casey. He was the kind of kid that needed to solve his problems, and perfectly if he could. He couldn't fully solve what Casey did to him unless he confessed. Few guys would confess it.

I no longer cared. He wasn't my case anymore. He gave me a sideways glance whenever we crossed near each other, but he kept his promise not to talk to me. He kept his distance. Everything was back to the way it was. How it should be. Like it never happened.

I expected it to be that way always. Two more weeks had gone by. I felt like I had moved on from the '_saving Davis'_ incident. I went to my regular spot outside the school, this time without a smoke, cursing myself for thinking about that night.

"I still can't believe I was saved by a garbage boy."

I turned in surprise, then glared. "Aren't you suppose to be, not talking to me," I reminded him.

"You're the one not talking to me when we pass each other," Davis countered.

"That's the way it's suppose to be."

"Says you. In case you hadn't noticed, a few things changed."

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that Casey's gone, and the fact that you _did _something for a change."

I shrugged it off like I didn't care. "Right place, right time." That was my excuse.

"Whatever."

Then it was two leaning against the wall.

"Dammit, you want someone to see you talking to me?" I asked, all irritated, again.

"Normally it would be the other way around. I should be worried about you ruining my reputation by talking to me."

"Whatever, what the hell do you want?"

"Nothing," he said, shrugging like it really was nothing he wanted. "I just wanted to say hi, Sid. And thanks."

He gave me that look again. That annoying probing look that now told me he thought we shared some kind of bond. Like we were buddies or some crap like that. We weren't. Things hadn't changed that much. I still hated him...or, he still annoyed the hell outta me. The perfect student who suddenly wasn't so perfect. Since his return, there's been a minor rumor that his grades were slipping. I knew it was because of what happened, but that wouldn't last. He'd be back to his perfect scores in no time. I didn't sweat it. Not any of it. If he was brave enough to talk to me, to even bother with me, then there was probably nothing he couldn't get over.

I guess that went for me too, with the toy thing. I almost wanted to ask about that, but I didn't really know what to ask. _'Hey how's your cowboy doll Woody?'_ I had no real way of telling if he believed me, but in a way I fell like he did. He didn't think I was crazy. He didn't think I was garbage either. Yeah, I was slowly starting not to see myself like that, even though I still enjoyed the dump. I was a different breed from Davis. The guy that hung in the shadows, wore black shirts and listened to rock music in a garbage truck. Davis was not those things. He was the guy that hung in the light, wore nice American blue t-shirts, and did voluntary work. But, honestly it wasn't so bad. Not for my old next door neighbor.

He pushed off the wall and nodded to me as he walked off. I still didn't see us hangin out, and I sure as hell didn't see myself savin his ass from anyone else. But, that didn't keep me from sayin something to him.

"Hey, you too," then I muttered "thanks."

He looked back, giving me that look that said we were practically friends. No. We weren't.

I just returning the right response. I stuffed my hands in my empty pockets and walked away.

**So in the end, Sid has partially changed. Giving up his cigs was a first step. It was trash related obviously. The talk ended nicely and you can't be sure whether or not they'll be friends in the future. But they do have a respect for one another. So to those of you who've followed this story, thanks.**


End file.
